


Happiest Hussy at Hogwarts

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, F/M, Head Girl Hermione, Inspired by Art, Public Sex, Sex in the Library, Smut, head boy draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: They called her a hussy. She’d show them.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 25
Kudos: 428
Collections: Role Models: A Dramione Smut Challenge (inspired by Elithien)





	Happiest Hussy at Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elithien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithien/gifts).



> Balls to anyone who thinks an intelligent woman can’t enjoy a short skirt and a bit of sex. And balls to whomever the person is who tried to shame Elithien for her fabulous bit of art.
> 
> This is unbeta’d because I saw the call to action from bed and well... this is what happens when I write from my phone laying in bed 🤣

_ Hussy _ .

How  _ dare _ they insinuate she was anything less than proper? As if she hadn’t successfully obtained ten OWLs and navigated her best friends through a war and survived. As if she weren’t on track for all seven of her NEWTs by the end of her makeup seventh year.

And they had the audacity to whisper that word about her as she walked through the corridor towards the library. How  _ dare _ they.

The library was quiet, because no one at Hogwarts ever frequented the place on a Saturday afternoon. No one, except one Hermione Granger—the Head Girl Hussy, if recent whispers were to be believed. Though sometimes she’d find a shock of blond hair roaming through the stacks, or she’d see long fingers gliding along the spines of books. And, as any dutiful Head Girl would, Hermione crossed her legs, chewed her lip and pretended there wasn’t some steamy fantasy playing like a pornographic movie in her mind.

Not today. Today, she wouldn’t sit idly by in her thick, wool skirt or her sensible tights and just imagine Draco Malfoy’s hands creeping past the elastic of her knickers. Oh no, today, Hermione had her sight set on making those vivid daydreams reality.

She was a strong, independent, intelligent girl. And she could enjoy showing off her knee and baring a bit of cleavage and having a slender, long throat for someone to pepper with kisses. Just because she was a brilliant witch, knitted socks for house elves, and outsmarted the darkest wizard of all time, did  _ not _ mean she didn’t fancy the occasional sexual escapade—studies sufficiently concluded that orgasms through vaginal stimulation were healthy, and contributed to a clear, uninhibited mind after all.

_ Hussy _ .

The longer she thought on the word, the angrier she became. Her cheeks flamed as she marched through the tall bookcases and slipped around their corners. She loosened her the tight knot at her throat and unfastened the buttons of her blouse as she peeked through gaps in the books. Finally her eyes found him; tall and lean and casually resting against a sturdy case with an old tome resting in his hands. Lost in thought, Malfoy didn’t see her approach, and continued reading as Hermione stepped in front of him and cleared her throat.

“Granger.” He didn’t bother lifting his gaze to hers.

“Malfoy.” She waited for a moment, and when it appeared he wasn’t going to ask what she was doing, Hermione grabbed the book from his hand and jammed it into an empty slot on the shelf. “Are you presently free?”

Malfoy’s eyes flicked down to her loose tie, popped buttons, and then up to her face again. His lip twitched at the corner. “Depends.”

She narrowed her eyes, hands finding purchase on her hips. “On?”

“If you’re seeking a partner for rounds, I’m busy.” He pushed himself off the bookcase and stood straight—and close. She inclined her chin. “If you’re seeking a partner for other, more pleasant activities, I’m ...presently free.”

There was nothing to hold her back then. Hermione pounced, immediately coiling her fingers in the fine blond hairs at the base of his skull and pulling him in hard against her lips. Malfoy made a noise and judging by the way his arms wound around her, it wasn’t one of protest. He maneuvered her back against the hard shelves and palmed her arse over her skirt.

It was divine—every bit as stimulating as her fantasies, with the added bonus of feeling his large endowment against her hip. She couldn’t stop the whimper that fell from her lips, and it only seemed to spur him on to deepen the kiss.

_ Hussy _ played in her mind on repeat as she grappled with his jumper and slipped her hands under his shirt so she could feel the hard planes of his torso. They lived up to all the hype she’d heard over the years; toned and rippled and—her brain screeched to a halt at the feel of Malfoy’s fingers bunching her skirts around her waist. He slid his tongue along her jaw, all the way to her ear, and nipped on the lobe.

“Turn around.”

Hermione moved so fast something in her neck twinged and she didn’t bloody care. Malfoy swept her pesky hair over her shoulder and attached his lips to her neck, just as he’d done in all her favorite imaginings. There was a burst of cold air as her knickers dropped to her knees, and then she was hitched at the waist. Forced to hold herself steady and risk splinters from the old shelving above her head.

“Not sure who scorned you, Granger, but—” He fumbled for a moment, only a moment, and then pushed into her in one, quick jerk of his hips. “Thank fuck for them,” he said in a strained whisper as his nose pressed against her neck.

“Malfoy,” she moaned, reaching back to grab his hip and encourage him to move.

He obeyed, snapping his hips forward at the pace she demanded without saying a word. It was amazing how easily he knew what she wanted, as if he could read her mind and wanted nothing more than to chase her orgasm as it built in her abdomen.

There was no stopping the noises she made or the way she whispered his name like an exaltation. But every utterance of “Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy” earned her faster, harder, deeper thrusts, and she was spiraling toward her climax like a seeker after a snitch.

Until she cracked.

“Yes, Granger.” He gripped her hip hard. “Come for me.”

And she did. Her fingers slipped off the wood above her head and she brought them down to the hand on her hip and held tightly as she spasmed around him and tried like hell not to cry out.

He sucked hard at the junction of her neck and shoulder, and his movements stuttered. He didn’t pull out of her immediately, instead he held her in place and laved at the spot she  _ knew  _ he’d left bruises.

Their breathing began to settle, and Hermione rested her head back against Malfoy’s shoulder.

_ Hussy _ ?

A soft laugh bubbled up her throat. Hermione Granger was the happiest hussy at Hogwarts, thank you very much.


End file.
